


The Heavens Do Not Fall For Such A Trifle

by GooseWhiskers



Series: Hey Look, Blue Soup! [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arguing, Blood, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Intoxication, Misunderstandings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unreliable Narrator, piper/sole if you squint, they're crushing but they dont know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooseWhiskers/pseuds/GooseWhiskers
Summary: Desperate to save his kidnapped son, Nate upturned heaven and hell on earth to track down Kellogg only to come up empty-handed. And finally, he's reached breaking point. Valentine's plan to use the Memory Den for a lead takes a turn for the worst when it forces Nate to relive the horrors he's been running from for far, far too long.And Piper's attempts to console her friend don't have quite the effect she hopes for...





	1. Escape Mechanism

It was hard to say what was happening. After the foray into Kellogg’s brain, Nate felt woozy. Confused. Pieces of the puzzle were finally clicking into place. And yet - learning the Institute had Shaun, learning they’d _wanted_ Nate to find Kellogg… it only made the bigger picture harder to comprehend. 

That wasn’t the worst part. Nate knew now, Nora lay dead thanks to the depravity of a madman. No further thought was given to her death than psychotic impulse. She hadn’t died for any reason. No divine plan. No course he could make peace with. She was just gone. He couldn’t save her.

Fear and anger spun his brain round like a teacup ride, and Nate felt horribly sick. He struggled to keep the smile on his face. He might have succeeded, but when Nick turned and smiled that _smile_ , and the voice that came out of his mouth was not _Nick’s_ … the world went blurry.

“Should’ve killed you when you were on ice.” Kellogg menaced, yellow eyes burning bright in the savage darkness.

Nate had been shot, once, by an M16. In Anchorage. It was the sort of bullet that hit like a truck, and then exploded out your back like a second shot altogether. 

The medics did their job; he didn’t even have a scar to prove it by. 

But at Kellogg’s voice, every moment of pain and fear came back in a bull-rush. 

“YOU WANNA TRY FOR ROUND TWO?” He bellowed, yanking Nick from the couch and slamming him against the wall by the coat collar, teeth bared into a snarl. 

Those malignant yellow eyes flickered. Nick’s body tensed and his framework shuddered at the rough treatment. “Wh-what? What are-” He spoke in his own voice now, metallic hands clutching at Nate’s fists with uncertain aggravation.

More hands yanked at him. “ _Jesus Blue!_ What’s your malfunction?” Piper berated, shoving herself between him and Nick.

Nate seemed to shake himself out of a dream. He released his hold on Nick, refusing to meet either of their eyes. He blinked, “I…” 

He looked down at his hands to find them covered in blood. Shaun screamed. Nora’s desperate ‘ _No, no, no!_ ’ serrated him like bladed agony. And over it all, the ear-splitting gunshot tearing a great ragged hole in everything he ever hoped or wanted for. 

Flashes of angry lips and pursed brows cut across his vision. Echoes of the emotions felt. But none of it clear. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Attempting to remember what was said only a few moments ago set Nate’s temples throbbing, and all he could dredge up was a world of freezing cold all around that suffocated, burned, _trapped_. 

When Nate blinked again, his hands were clean - and shaking. The low whir of machinery in the Memory Den was the only sound. He eyed Nick warily, and just briefly. “For a minute you sounded like-...” Words drifted off into the abyss. Who was to say whether what Nate had heard was any more real than the other images ripping his mind to shreds? 

Trying to explain would lead to more questions which he wasn’t nearly ready to answer. 

“I just need some air.” 

Without waiting for them to respond, he turned away and made pace for the door. The nightmare followed.

 

* * *

 

Piper watched his stiff back turn down the hall and thought Blue seemed to be trying very hard not to break into a run. Her fingers rapped against her hip. “Does he seem… alright to you?”

Tugging his coat up by the lapels, Nick replied acerbically, “If by ‘alright’ you mean ‘one bad impulse away from throwing himself into the nearest bonfire.’”

She nodded stiffly with a flash of her brows, scowling. “Yeah.” Nate tried to hide it, but there was a look in his eyes like a cornered animal. She’d seen that fear in the eyes of dying men, but never in Blue. Not even when he had _been_ dying.

Her gut instinct was to follow after him. And it was a powerful urge. Only he wasn’t the only potential casualty of the evening’s wacky science theatre encore. “What about you, Nikky?” She asked, brows furrowing. “Sounded like Kellogg hijacked you there for a minute.”

“Did I?” Blinking, he pursed his lip. “Amari said there might be some ‘mnemonic impressions’ left over...” Valentine shook his head. “Don’t feel anything now. At the moment I’m more concerned about the state of _Nathan’s_ mind.” He adjusted the fit of his fedora. “C’mon, we’d better see if we can catch up.”

But by the time they got outside, Nate was nowhere to be seen. Dogmeat, who’d been waiting by the door, was gone too.

“Blue!” Piper called out across the damp, half-fogged street.

Nothing.

They walked the block hollering his name -  availing themselves to a few disgruntled glares from the locals, but no sign of the rattled vault-dweller. Nick eventually suggested splitting up to cover more ground. 

The old detective tried to temper Piper’s frustration by reminding her that their half-thawed friend might not _want_ to be found. It wasn’t altogether unusual for him to disappear, and after the day’s events, needing space wouldn’t be entirely surprising. He had Dogmeat; the hound would take care of him.

It sounded bogus to her. Now, least of all, was the time for Nate to be alone. Plus they had a lead they could follow - a _good_ one. This was supposed to be the planning part. The part where Blue smiled that fearless smile of his and suggested something so crazy she couldn’t help but laugh. 

They weren’t licked yet. Underdogs, sure. But that was part of the excitement. So she was gonna find him. Maybe Blue had his fancy pre-war schooling. Sniper training and army boot camp and a bunch of shiny medals. It didn’t matter. 

With a determined grimace, Piper fixed her hat down against the rising wind. She was a reporter. And she knew his tells well enough. He couldn’t stay missing for long.

\-----

Except that after two hours of searching the obvious vantage points Nate would’ve usually drifted towards, what did Piper have to show for it? Nothing. 

Nobody had seen him. 

Nobody knew anything. 

And whether out of disinterest or awareness of her reputation - nobody wanted to help. It was as though he’d vanished into thin air. 

She started to feel a modicum of concern. Goodneighbor hardly lived up to its name and the _look_ in Nate’s eye, that wildness - way too much like a lit match over an oil slick. 

But worrying was silly. 

He knew how to take care of himself. Even on a bad day, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to wind up on the wrong end of a knife, bleeding out against a pile of rubble at the edge of town. _Right?_

Piper chewed her lip. _Right._

Wherever he was, he was safe. The Institute couldn’t know Nate found a way to search Kellogg’s brain. And even if they’d somehow gotten their claws on that bit of intel, for all their invasive power they still didn’t have spies in Goodneighbor. 

_Right…?_

That was the one and only reason she’d ever have to be grateful for Hancock’s debauched approach to mayoral duties. He didn’t take chances with doppelgangers - which meant Nate couldn’t have been _snatched._  

_Right…_

So then _where was he?_ Were her instincts wrong about where he might go… or the other, less pleasant alternatives? Wondering was about to drive her properly out of her mind. 

Even mother nature seemed disinclined to offer aid. It was a cloudy night and all the darker for it. A storm was rolling in from the Glowing Sea, promising violence with its distant peals. 

With no other leads, and no light to see by, Piper finally surrendered the hunt and made her way to The Third Rail. A stiff drink wouldn’t bring her any closer to finding Blue, but it might lessen the sting of defeat. 

 

* * *

 

The bright neon glow of Charlie’s decor was obscured by a thick haze. A familiar bustle hummed in the air amid clinking glasses and creaking floorboards. From the stage, Magnolia swayed to a jazzy beat, her red ensemble blinding bright even through the smog of gathered derelicts. It was crowded tonight - though it always seemed to be. Wary eyes darted this way and that, and weary mouths droned out secrets for wandering ears to pluck like forbidden fruit off the vine. There were stories here. But Piper’s attention focused sharply elsewhere.

Blue, seated at the bar. The bar chock full with mercenaries and drifters, and other less savory renegades. 

He should’ve looked out of place. 

He didn’t.

Dogmeat approached with a low whine, and Piper reached down to scratch his ears absently.

 _“Have you got history that needs erasing? Or did you come in just for the beer and cigarettes?”_ Magnolia lilted out over the crowd. A drunk near the stage let out a catcall, garnering a wink. Piper recognized the song from the radio, but there was something pointed in Magnolia’s rendition tonight. 

Nate stared at the performer from across the bar, a Gwinnett in one hand and a cigar in the other.

Catching his eye, Magnolia fixed him with a provocative smile. _“A broken down dream, you're tired of chasing…? Ooh, well, I'm just the girl to make you forget.”_

Charlie quipped something. Nate laughed without a smile, taking a long drag and breathing out enough toxic exhale to obscure his face from view.

Piper stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched from across the room, in turmoil. This was not the Blue she knew. It was hard to classify them as the same people, really. Blue was energetic, quirky, and always smiling like he meant something by it. Nothing could keep him down. The man at the bar looked fractured and wild-eyed, another lost and angry soul dredged up from the sewers of fate.

She found herself considering the synth replacement possibility again. Discarded it. No. This was the puppy-eyed vault dweller she’d grown so fond of. In a light she’d never seen. An angle she’d never considered. Funny, how the world could tilt on its axis so suddenly. Enough to give a girl vertigo. Her feet moved under her automatically as she floated through the bleak rathskeller. 

\-----

_“Now is your motor running close to empty? Or are you runnin’ from yourself?”_

Magnolia’s singing struck Nate, as good songs always did, somewhere intangible deep in his chest. Her sonorous jazz filled the room like ribbons of smoke and smothered the ache of what was shaping up to be the second worst day of his life. 

He couldn’t remotely hope for understanding, not from anyone. Yet it seemed the way the red-dressed singer looked at him as she sang conveyed a particular comprehension. Empathy for emotions too painful to express other ways. Music had a way of doing that.

_“...Thirsty for a brand new kind of pleasure, or are you hungry to be somebody else?”_

Nate smirked carelessly at her and took another swallow of warm beer. Tasted like mole rat piss, but that was hardly the point. It was cheap and he was going to need a lot of it. Tonight he was going to get rip-roaring drunk and maybe, if he was very lucky, he wouldn’t even wake up tomorrow morning. 

He could hope.

“You know you could have left a note or somethin’, Blue.” A familiar voice teased at his back. 

He flinched like a child caught misbehaving. 

“Nick and I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you.” There was a fritz in Piper’s tone, Nate took it for agitation. 

“Well, I’m here!” He jerked around to face her, waving his cigar between them and spewing out a heavy smokescreen. “Right as rain. Enjoying the fruits of my labors. For exactly what they’re worth.”

“Is that what this is?” she grimaced. 

“Good music, shitty booze, what else would it be, Piper?” He took a swallow, and, finding the bottle empty, discarded it with a scoff. “Another dead soldier.”

For a brief moment, Piper’s eyes followed the bottle as it rolled toward Charlie, then cut back to Nate. “We thought you might have been in trouble,” she needled with nefarious insistence.

In her ruddy red coat, she contrasted sharply with the conglomerate of drab and gloom. Almost as much as Magnolia. It was a dingy old trench, so worn and battered that Piper would be better served finding a newer replacement. She _should’ve_ done so a long time ago. Irritation puffed up in his throat like cigar fumes, as he suddenly resented her tattered sentiment. 

“Was I supposed to write it out in neon?” Nate huffed, “A man’s got a right to a drink now and then, doesn’t he?” _I sound like my father._

Piper scowled at him as though he’d missed the point. Nate wished she would hurry up and take his, instead. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” she maintained, lip quirking as she made another attempt to banter: “Back there at the Den, y’looked-”

“You found me.” He asserted in a flat sigh, squinting his eyes shut. He was suffocating. This was not a conversation he could have right now. “You can go tell Nick I’m fine.” 

 _Please. Please just go. Leave me alone._  

Of course she didn’t. 

Piper tensed. “But, shouldn’t we be planning our next move?” 

When he didn’t immediately respond, she crossed the threshold of his personal space and leaned against the bar next to him, waving the smoke away. “This Virgil fella is our best lead yet. We’re practically at the Institute’s door.”

“ _Best lead?”_ The tenuous fabric of Nate’s patience snapped, and he croaked a bitter laugh. His fingers stung with artificial cold as he scuffed his cigar roughly against the bartable. “Next move?”

Her brow furrowed uncertainly. It was unfathomable how a _reporter_ could so utterly fail to see the writing on the wall. 

“Piper-”, he shook his head. “Look at what we’ve accomplished. _Nothing._ Shaun’s being dangled in front of me like a carrot on a stick by complete. fucking. lunatics. And _some_ runaway mad scientist hiding _somewhere_ under a _rock_ in the vast irradiated _Glowing Sea_ is my best lead?” He scoffed in bitter derisiveness, tilting back on his stool. _“Seriously?”_  

Piper stiffened. The accusation on her face was just salt in the wound. “B-but you can’t just _give up!_ ” She croaked, lips pulled into a snarl of their own as she leaned forward in pursuit. He glanced away, and she challenged with a harsh whisper, “We’ve come so far already. Is that the story you want me to write? ‘Vault Dweller Takes Down Son’s Kidnapper, Learns Where His Son Is, and _Quits_?’ _Now?_ ”

Nora’s shattered face stabbed his vision again, real and vivid as Piper in the flesh. Nate visibly recoiled. His head was filled with lead. He was so, so tired of fighting against the inevitable. But the screaming wouldn’t _stop._ “ _I don’t care._ ” Nate snapped in rising volume. “Tell them the truth. He’s gone. They’re _all_ \- _gone_!” 

She scowled. “No. He _isn’t._ How can you even say that?” Piper challenged, oblivious to the torment her naivety subjected him to. Feeding it. Like bleach and vinegar, fear and horror washed over him like a bad trip. It was disorienting. Nauseating. Of course she didn’t understand. Nobody understood. Nobody possibly could. 

“Oi!” Charlie interrupted, voice pitching with pre-programmed aggravation as he offered Nate another drink,  “Wanna have a domestic spat? This ain’t the place for it. How about you an’ the missus take it outside.”

Nate raised a dismissive hand. “It’s fine.” 

It was not fine. 

But a narrow platform of _savoir faire_ had emerged, and he clutched it like a drowning man to flotsam. A cacophony of cheers went up around them as Magnolia finished her song. Nate’s eyes settled on Piper, distant and hostile.

Her cheeks flushed with anger. “Blue…”, she strained with a huff and a grimace, casting her palms up as she spread her arms weakly. “I’m worried about you.”

“Oh, right.” He scoffed, waving his beer bottle with a derisive flick. “ _Me._ Your _Story_ of the _Century_.”

“N _o.”_ She almost looked hurt. “ _You_ \- as in, my friend _._ Y’know, the one who said not to give up - no matter how much it hurt.” Barbed-wire coated her voice. “Shaun’s still out there. We can still save him.” 

Nate didn’t answer. 

Piper chewed her lip. She exhaled. “Look… I get it. I, saw the screens, at the Den. I know what Kellogg did t-”

\-----

It was barely perceptible, the way the corners of Blue’s eyes widened. One couldn’t be blamed for failing to notice how his lip stretched a mere _fraction,_ or his fingers curled ever so slightly tighter around the bottle in his hand. All the same, they were the warning signs. Piper spotted them a split second too late.

“Is it TOO MUCH to ask for everyone to stop kicking up my family’s ashes like confetti?” He snarled, teeth bared like an angry beast and every muscle in his body yanked tight, “You haven’t given me a moment’s peace since we left the city. Maybe this is all fun and games for you, Piper. Well - it’s _real_ for me. I was _there_ , I lost everything!” His hand cut between them like a knife. “And I’m _damn tired_ of being the novelty horror of the hour for every brainless wasteland wretch to yap about. So go bother someone else.” 

“Fun and ga-? Blue!” Piper sputtered. The world around them had narrowed to a fine point, the poisonous fury in Nate’s eyes numbing her to all else. _“Is that what you think?”_

She hardly needed to ask. She could see it in his face, he believed every word.

“What’s the matter, Sugar?” Chimed a sultry voice behind them. 

Piper spun, coming face to face with Magnolia. 

Sweat glistened on the performer’s prominent chest from the heat of the stage, and her brilliant red pencil dress accentuated Magnolia’s features rather than outshining them. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like the song?” Smokey eyes curious and keen, she brushed a manicured finger through finely combed black hair. 

“No - I, I just-” _Why was she butting in!_

Magnolia raised a brow, but before Piper could make a further spectacle of herself Nate interrupted loudly, “I loved the song. The song was perfect.” His voice lilted in sharp contrast to the hostility cast at Piper a moment before.

Magnolia’s attention drifted toward the man at the bar, smiling with catlike charm. Piper flushed as the singer moved past. Blue had turned his focus with full deliberateness to Mags. Just like that. An iron curtain. Conversation over.

With a bitter huff, Piper resisted the sudden impulse to kick Blue’s barstool out from under him. He wouldn’t even look at her. She stared at him a moment longer in agonized frustration and then flung her hands and stalked away, back through the whispering tables and bleak din, toward the exit where a heavy rain could already be heard falling. Dogmeat padded after her with a grumbling whine. 

Fine.

_Fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Escape Mechanism -  
> 1\. "In psychology ... a maladaptive coping mechanism characterized by the effort to avoid dealing with a stressor. Coping refers to behaviors that attempt to protect oneself from psychological damage."  
> 2\. A mechanism built into clocks, enabling them to continue ticking and keep time without the need for a power source, like winding or a battery.


	2. Widow of His Last Hope

Piper stalked through the icy rain in a flurry, sloshing up puddles indiscriminately with her frustrated stomping. Thunder growled overhead and she turned up the collar of her coat against the buffeting wind. _Damn._  

It was hard to say whether she was more upset at Nate for the way he’d treated her, or herself for expecting something different. That mind-reading machine must’ve shorted all his good brain cells. Or maybe the truth was folks just didn’t vary all that much. She’d been kidding herself thinking Blue might _really_ understand her. Over and over their fight replayed in her mind as she struggled to consider it from other angles. By the time she reached the Rexford, Piper’s mind was a black tangle of frustration and disappointment. 

Nick was waiting in the foyer. He stood to greet her as she passed through the door, yellow eyes honing to her distress in a heartbeat. “No luck?” The old detective guessed. 

Dogmeat followed Piper in. 

Nick’s brow furrowed, “Or _bad_ luck?” 

Dogmeat shook himself with gusto and showered them both in the pungent aroma of wet dog.

“He’s at The Third Rail.” Piper replied shortly, shaking her soggy hat out over the moth-eaten welcome rug. Her press badge was smeared and soaked through, barely legible anymore. “ _Drowning his sorrows._ ” She added with a droll.

Nick levelled a judicious gaze. That frustrated her, too. Like she was under some kind of scrutiny. But he didn’t criticize. Only asked, “You think he might be a danger to himself?” 

“Go see if you want. He’s not _my_ problem anymore, he made that perfectly clear.” She meant to sound angry; hurt came out instead. 

Nick tilted a brow. 

She was already heading for the stairs, “I’ve got notes to organize.” 

“Hey, Piper-,” he called, pausing below the steps.

She stopped halfway up and looked back flatly. 

With a purse of his lips, Nick glanced aside and then offered. “Listen… I dunno what he said to you… but I know this: Nathan re-lived some real horrors today. The sort that has a way of bringing folks to their worst.” 

_“I know._ ” She cut back, a little too quickly. Exhaling sharply, she added: “I suppose I should be grateful for his _honesty_ , at least. It’s good. To hear exactly how he feels about me. And the way he went after you earlier? You’d think he forgot who is friends are.”

A thin crease formed between Nick’s eyebrows. The synth made a thoughtful sound, the kind reserved for sleuthing, and then: “...He might have.” 

The response was so unexpected, spoken so plainly, Piper was momentarily disarmed. She blinked. 

“Watching it from the comfortable distance of a screen is one thing. But the Memory Den’s as vivid as the real world when you’re in there yourself, sometimes even more so.”

“What, am I supposed to believe those _mnemonical whatsits_ hijacked him, too?” 

Nick cast her a disapproving frown. “C’mon now, _Piper._ There’s a clean cut between holding the line and holding a grudge. You oughta know that better than anyone.” 

She scoffed. “He ah, didn’t leave a lot in the way of ambiguity.”

“Maybe not.” The old detective’s words were mild, but there was an earnest plea in them, “But it’s been a mad dash after Nathan’s son, ever since waking up in that Vault. He’s spent every spare moment chasing maniacs and getting shot at -- some of that on your behalf. There’s been no chance to grieve.” Nick frowned, “…Not until now. Everything he’s been trying to run from just hit him with both barrels. If I was in his place, I probably wouldn’t be in the friendliest of moods myself.”

“He wants to give up on the search for Shaun. Let the Institute keep him.” Piper nipped back.

Nick’s yellow eyes pulsed in the dark. _That_ surprised him. But after a pause, he pulled out a cigarette and replied steadily, “Nathan’s not the type to drop everything in a fit of passion…" A faint warm glow lit the detective’s features. “He might still try. Learn the hard way.

 

* * *

 

Even insulated by the Rexford’s confines, the ferocity of the nuclear storm was audible. Closer rumbles shook the half-rotted building down to its foundation. Piper hardly noticed. Nothing compared with the resentment billowing inside. 

Nick’s mild response only added to her frustration. Nate had hit every single sour note since the Den. Hell, Nikky had even been attacked. And somehow it was supposed to be alright that Nate wanted to give it all up? Leave his son behind, let the Institute go on murdering loved ones and taking others? Well, _she_ wasn’t going to make excuses for him. “ _Psh.”_  

She flicked the radio on in passing, digging through her pack beside it for a cola while the battered mechanics spat out noise and searched for a signal. Hopefully Travis had something good on tonight.

 

_“CAN'T GO FORWARD, CAN'T GO BACK,_

_SET YOUR MIND AT EASE, YOU BETTER RELAX!_

_THROW YOURSELF A PARTY WHEREVER YOU'RE AT_

_AND DANCE YOUR BLUE-”_

 

Hissing through her teeth, Piper slammed a palm roughly back over the radio’s power switch and Magnolia’s voice sputtered out. Only muted thunder filled the room again. Why was it so impossible to escape The Third Rail?

Over and over Nate’s accusation ran through her head. Like nails on a chalkboard grating against her nerves. _Maybe this is all fun and games for you._ “Yeah, I’m having the _time_ of my _life._ ” 

Free of her coat, Piper hung the wet leather on the opposite side of the room where the sound of its dripping wouldn’t distract. Popping the cap off a Nuka Cherry, she dropped back into a threadbare chair, flipped through her notebook, and started writing. 

 

_I remember the first time I set eyes on Nate Ronan. Most of us probably do. It was raining the day he stumbled up to Diamond City’s gates, lost and leading every conversation with every stranger with a burning question: ‘Have you seen my infant son?’_

_It’s raining now outside my hotel room as I write this, readers. And that’s fitting, because I’ve followed the Vault Dweller to Goodneighbor on his search for Shaun, where Nate’s made an impression of an entirely different kind._

_Imagine, if you will, that lonely figure, fighting his way through an Institute bolthole, and finally -_ finally _\- learning his son is still very much alive. That’s right - indisputable proof. Better yet, there’s a way to reach him, even free him from their grasp. The road won’t be easy. When is it ever in the Commonwealth? And more importantly, when has that stopped the Vault Dweller? Nate’s faced tougher odds before without even flinching._

_And now imagine him giving up the search._

_Hard to believe? Not surprising. But it turns out, he’s not quite the force for change we initially hoped_

 

_‘I lost everything!’_  

She stopped with a huff. The flow of words in her brain jarred to a halt. In an effort to recalibrate, she took a sip of cola. Hardly tasted it. Piper grimaced.

Why was he so determined to throw it all away? Ever since Blue came around, people had found something to hope for again. A reason to fight for themselves. Finding Shaun? Getting him back? It meant something. Lots of folks wanted to believe in Nate. Her included. 

_My Story of the Century._  

The look in his eyes burned through the back of her mind. Of course it wasn’t _just_ for the paper. Sure, nosy was part of her job. …And okay, maybe bringing up her readers in the bar hadn’t been the _best_ idea she’d ever had. But she’d kinda thought, maybe, Nate actually liked having her around. Why’d he have to wait until now to blurt out what he’d held against her, maybe from the start? How long had he left her just _thinking_ they were friends? Which wasn’t the _point_ , actually, but -

_Damn him._ Frustration surged through her like an electric pulse. She lifted the pen.

 

_That’s right. He’s decided to chase off anyone that ever just wanted to help, and would rather forget his son is in the hands of the most dangerous organization in the Commonwealth. Instead, he’s content to just drink and inhale cigars and take his emotional constipation out on everyone who’s had the misfortune to_

 

Cutting off again, she glanced to a blank half-rotted wall, then scratched out most of what she’d written, sighing. For a moment she sat in silence. Soon the lack of forward motion became unbearable. Piper lit a cigarette and paced back to her tattered coat, staring hard at the damaged leather as though a solution might be written between the rain lines. 

She had her answer. Didn’t she? Nate was like all the others. Afraid of the truth. Afraid of her. Angry about it, and not caring that _she_ cared. The kind of person who gave up, who stopped trying. Hurt frustration bubbled up in her throat. 

She was used to having doors slammed in her face. You’d think it wouldn’t feel so bad by now. This time was worse. Nate was a friend. And he’d never done any of those things before. Not to her. Not to _anyone_.

Which was why it just didn’t make sense. After so long on the road together, it wasn’t like he didn’t have options. He’d _asked_ her to come to the Memory Den with him and Nick. And sure, maybe she would’ve insisted on tagging along anyway… but that wasn’t the point. The point was - if Nate really didn’t like her, why bother going out of his way to make the invitation?

Piper returned to her chair and flipped through her scribbled notes mechanically. Maybe he assumed keeping her close was better than her snooping on him. But then… tonight had proved pretty soundly that if he didn’t want to be followed, he knew how to shake a tail. 

If this was really all about _Nate_ , like Nikky seemed to think… well… how was she supposed to reconcile that vastly different figure she’d seen at the bar with the Blue she’d come to know so well? Or did she really know him at all? 

_Maybe…_ she just needed to approach this from a different angle. After tapping out an anxious rhythm on the notepad with her free hand, she took another drag and started over. 

 

_The truth. What is the truth, readers? This reporter has always strived to bring it to you. In a world where we all live in constant fear of the Institute snatching our loved ones in the night, that means asking tough questions. The Vault Dweller’s journey for his missing son took him to Goodneighbor recently, where it seemed an end might finally be in sight. After a harrowing ordeal, he learned without a doubt that it is, indeed, the Boogeyman holding his son. Even better - uncovered a direct lead to the Institute itself. That’s right. A way in. For decades we’ve had no idea how to reach them. And he’s done it. The impossible. But afterward, Nate had this to say, “Look wha_ t _we’ve accomplished. Nothing.”_

 

“Yeah, there’s my headline.” She scoffed, “‘Grieving Parent Decides Saving His Son Is J _-ust_ Too Much Trouble.’” 

 

_After risking life and limb, after reliving the very kidnapping with his own eyes, one has to wonder how he came to this conclusion, following such compelling evidence to the contrary…_

One had to wonder.

She couldn’t understand it. Nate always seemed so hopeful. And maybe that was what bothered her the most, the heart of every tangent drama playing through her head. She’d never seen him quit. Nate stood bloody and broken against impossible odds more often than not. In the ruins of Kendall Hospital he’d nearly killed himself fending off the deathclaw that pinned them down in the basement tunnels. And faced equal threats for strangers in the name of generosity alone. Lying down, accepting defeat - it just wasn’t his style. 

 

_When asked about the situation, Detective Nick Valentine noted that the effects of the memory den might be to blame._

 

It seemed a contrived sentiment. Piper understood what it meant to lose a loved one. There were still days where her father’s premature death gave her heartache. But watching it happen? It would only have fueled her determination to bring his killer to justice. She knew herself well enough for that. And Nate - he’d _always_ fought so hard for the right of things, as long as she’d known him. Especially where his son was concerned.

Irrationally hard. Even. 

Blue often abused himself in the effort.

Piper frowned, extinguishing her tightly-held cigarette. What if there was more to it than simply believing he was Grognak-made-real? There were other things she’d noticed about her plucky companion. The nightmares, for one thing. Nasty, incomprehensible things that he never wanted to talk about afterward. And then… the loneliness, too. It had to catch him by surprise - a familiar ruin, an old memory, the flashbacks of a previous life. But she’d seen the mask crack, Piper knew there was more behind Blue’s smile than naive optimism. She’d just… always assumed it was the same as hers. What point was there dwelling on old sorrow, when you had today in front of you to make things better? 

Well. What if Nate wasn’t chasing a sunrise - so much as running from the dark?

She’d seen how tight his fists clenched in the machine, when Kellogg shot his wife. 

Everything he had ever done, all the lives he’d saved and fought for - all in defiance of fate. But there was one life he _hadn’t_ saved. The one who’d mattered most to him. It shadowed Nate everywhere he went, and tonight it had come out of the closet with claws and teeth. The Boogeyman’s true face. 

They’d taken all that mattered. And left him behind. And Piper…  she’d challenged him at his weakest, right on the heels of being forced to relive that most singular unforgivable failure. 

Reaching for her cola, Piper rubbed at the bottle’s smooth glass rim without taking another sip. He’d been out of line. All evening. He’d burned her. The stabbing sensation in her gut made imagining any other scenario hard. Through the taste of charcoal in her mouth, though, she realized she'd expected him to smile and dance after watching his entire world unravel.

It wasn’t an excuse.

But Nikky was right. 

As usual. 

And it ate at her.

Piper didn’t get through half the Nuka Cherry before she gave up on organizing her notes and set off in a determined trudge towards the stairs, a packet of gumdrops tucked into the pocket of her coat. A peace offering. 

The clock was far past decent visiting hours. Without a doubt, though, Nate would still be awake. Assuming he hadn’t drank himself into a deluded stupor, he had to be back in his room by now. Alone with nothing but grief and defeat and maybe her own words driving the knife deeper. 

She’d pushed too far at the bar - hurt Blue by mistake. The least she could do was try and make things right. Even if he didn’t feel the same, Nate’s friendship meant something to her. More than one heated exchange in Goodneighbor, that was for sure.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A VERY BIG MASSIVE LOVING SHOUT-OUT to my fantastic friends and beta-readers, [tarberrymentats](https://tarberrymentats.tumblr.com/), [Shadow-Mockingbird](https://shadow-mockingbird.tumblr.com/), and [InstantCoyote](https://www.deviantart.com/instantcoyote)! ilu guys <33  
> 


	3. In The Silence of My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [tarberrymentats](https://tarberrymentats.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading! :D <3

God, she hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake. 

As she walked, she found herself rehearsing her lines. 

“Haay, Blue! Thought you might be hungry so I-”  

No. Too obvious. 

 _“Nate!_ How ya doin’? Nick said-.” 

Psh. Even worse. 

“Please just take the candy and stop being angry at me, okay?” _When did knowing what to say become so hard?_

She nearly ran into Magnolia coming the opposite way around the corner, jarring Piper out of her thoughts. The singer’s hair was disheveled. Implicative wrinkles broke up the outline of her distracting sequin dress. 

Magnolia smiled under half-lidded eyes. “Evenin’ sweetheart.” There was something chafed in the older woman’s sultry tone, so faint Piper wondered if she hadn’t imagined it. 

Magnolia passed by, assets boldly advertised. The air between them seemed much hotter, suddenly. She was leaving in an awful hurry.  

Pausing in the stairway entrance, Piper stared after the singer’s sauntering figure, and then back to the end of the hall, where Nate’s door was cracked open just enough to be incriminating. Her eyes narrowed. Creaky old building like this, Piper would’ve heard the latch click into place if Magnolia came from any of the other - _closed_ \- rooms.

Cold shock froze in Piper’s gut even as sudden, hot anger put pressure between her temples. The flashfire of emotion was vaguely bewildering, but before such damning evidence her well-intentioned earlier resolve burned to cinders. Any attempt to plan her words went the way of Magnolia. Gone.

 _Two-faced crocodile tear piece of pre-war **garbage!**_ Piper was stalking down the hall before fully realizing what she was doing, intending to throw open his door and - and… She didn’t know what! _Something!_

Avoiding her like the plague, drinking himself into a self-pitying stupor, treating his friends like shoveled dirt, and now this! Nick wanted her to be _understanding?_ Well she _understood._ A pretty broad with a big set and bedroom eyes had winked at him, and that was all it took for Nate's _desperate search_ for a _kidnapped son_ to go up in smoke. 

Hell, maybe he’d even intended to screw around this entire time. All that moaning before had just been to get Piper and Nick out of the way. Grieving? Family? Pah! _Just talk!_ An ugly lie. Holding himself a little pity party and using it as an excuse to feel up a good-looking rack. It was the oldest trick in the book.

She couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to _worry_ about him. Well, that wasn’t a mistake she’d make again. 

Piper stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Voices were coming from his room. _Another woman?_ I don’t believe this - 

“You are kind, and loving,-”

A baby laughed through the static. 

No. Not a woman. 

Or - not a present one. A holotape recording? And the speaker was familiar. It took a moment to place, but when Piper did it was like being doused with cold water. Her chest clenched, anger going tacky in her throat. 

“- and funny! That’s right.” Nate’s dead wife giggled. There was a warmth in it, the sort of idyllic contentment no one had seen since before the War. “... _And patient_. So patient.” 

What was this? Piper realized she was listening in on something intensely private. Something she’d no right to hear. She hesitated, but enough indignation over Magnolia’s dalliance lingered to overcome the faint protest of Piper’s conscience. 

Details about his lover had never been forthcoming from Nate. Gilded secrets - he kept them far from prying eyes. Piper didn’t even know the woman’s name. Seeing her on the display monitor in the Memory Den was more insight than Nate ever provided willingly these past months. But watching him relive his wife’s savage murder wasn’t exactly the sort of scoop Piper would’ve aimed for. Not like _this_ was. A first-hand account of Blue’s life before radiation and ruin.

“Look, with Shaun, and us all being at home together…”

 _God,_ if he knew she was listening… 

Piper’s lips pursed. Nate didn’t have to _know_ that she’d overheard, did he? The angle of tonight’s conflicts had shifted so rapidly she could scarcely keep a line on it; his wife might be the key to understanding. Or at least putting Piper on the right track. 

And reasoning aside, propriety had no pith against curiosity. Her fingers stayed on the handle, straining to make out the words over the muffling of the half-rotted building and the storm beyond.

“... It's been an amazing year. But even so, I know our best days are yet to come.” Through the weathering of age, his wife’s preserved voice still carried promise. _Hope._ She spoke with such certainty, it was almost impossible not to believe it. 

Except this woman was dead now. And those days had never come. 

“There will be changes, sure. Things we'll need to adjust to. You'll rejoin the civilian workforce, I'll shake the dust off my law degree… But everything we do, no matter how hard… _we do it for our family.”_

Somewhere in the room, Nate made a strangled hissing sound through his teeth. Piper winced. She didn’t suppose there could be any doubt about whether his suffering was sincere at a time like this. He thought he was alone.

“Now, say goodbye, Shaun… bye bye? Say bye bye?” His wife cooed. The baby giggled again, and the holotape clicked off. 

A futile emptiness lingered. Faint staggered breaths betrayed Nate’s otherwise silent weeping on the opposite side of the door. 

Piper pressed a half-formed fist over her mouth. She thought back to the unhinged look in his eyes when they’d left the Memory Den. The dissatisfaction on Magnolia’s face that Piper was sure now hadn’t been imagined. Swallowing, her grip on the handle loosened as her resolve faltered. Maybe the singer hadn’t gotten what she came here for tonight, either. Maybe Piper should just leave well enough alone for once, and-

A splintering bang and the jarring crash of crystal shattering extinguished the notion as Nate let out a mutilated cry. She flung the door open in time to see him sag to the ground. An overturned table and a halo of glass shards lay strewn before his feet. Wine splattered across it all like the remnants of a violent crime.

He looked up sharply at the intrusion, and she didn’t see a man in that moment but a trapped animal, injured and all the fiercer for it. 

She stood at the entrance, her sin plain to see. For an incriminating split second Piper’s words deserted her entirely. Only to return in a jumble, “Uh - hey, there - sorry, I- _i_ ju-ust… thoughtyoumightbehungry.” She fumbled for the gumdrops, waving them brittlely like a little white flag. “So I, ah -” 

Piper stiffened, “ _Blue!_ Your _hand!”_ At first glance they looked like wine-stained fingers. Then she’d seen how the red caught the light.

Nate only glanced aside, eyes glazed with the sort of pain that left you numb to both time and space. As if he hadn’t heard, and the bright bloody gash running across his palm didn’t exist. Even from here, she could tell it was deep. But he just slumped with his hands over his knees, bent like a windblasted branch, staring at the ruined floor as red dripped down. 

“... Blue?”

He blinked, and she took it for acknowledgment. 

Fingers crossed, she stepped over the threshold. 

He didn’t react. At all. Was that good?

Crouching down, she reached for the wounded part of him. 

But Nate coiled it away sharply, inhaling with a stiff grimace. _“Don’t.”_ He hissed.

She winced, heart twisting. It seemed _Magnolia,_ bedazzling stranger that she was, was permitted closer to him than Piper. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to consider approaching a mistake. At least… she wasn’t being told to leave. So far.

Nate had never looked more alone than he did now. 

 _What’s the story?_  

Her practiced eye picked out every black detail. His vest was undone and his shirt partly unbuttoned: a moment of revelry, thwarted. Greasy black hair hung down limply, looking as drunk and defeated as the rest of him. Bloodshot eyes, sore with grief. Even the stitches from his fight with Kellogg splayed lopsided. Nate was a trainwreck, really. The colorful facade of a confident, hopeful man had entirely faded away. Or been stripped. With industrial grade Abraxo.

A burning urgency to alter the scene stirred her to action. Piper smirked, coaxing with a tease, “Pretty sure that wine was older than you are. Real generous of ya to share a vintage with the radroaches like that.” Unlike at the bar, her voice was soft now. 

She just needed to see him smile again. Even a flicker would do. 

Nate didn’t reply. Didn’t even look up. 

Her teeth ground tightly together and she rubbed a forearm restively. He always had a comeback. _Always_. She’d have preferred his ire over this… _silence._ He was a million miles away, shrouded in a black smog. 

At least an outburst would’ve given her something to go on.

Nate’s earlier venom replayed through Piper’s mind. Doubt held her back, competing against her initial inclination. Maybe he’d meant what he said in anger. Maybe the truth was he really _didn’t_ trust her - not with his story, not with his troubles, not with _anything_. 

But it had to be possible to prove him wrong. There had to be a way to show Blue she wasn’t in it for kicks. That he meant something to her. 

Besides - she couldn’t just leave him like this. All tattered and loathing.

Piper knelt beside Nate on one knee and tried again, “C’mon, Blue. Do I have to dress in sequins just to get you to _look_ at me?”

The challenge was out almost before she realized she’d said it. Her gut dropped straight through the floor as Nate’s shoulders tensed and a precarious silence filled the space between them. She braced herself for the inevitable outrage.

“...You saw?” He asked finally. Flatly.

Piper frowned and nodded, choosing the truth though it would reveal just how long she'd been outside his door. Nate probably wouldn’t understand her reasons for it, now. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I mean - nothing, nothing like, uh -” Piper flustered, cheeks burning, “ _Just_ her leaving. That’s all. And… afterwards. I passed her on the stairs.” 

Oh God, what a mess. 

Dropping to sit beside him, she threw her head back against the wall and pressed the heel of a palm to her brow. “I came here to apologize y’know. Doing a great job of that, aren’t I?”

He seemed to shrink as all the air left him - and with it, whatever eidolon was keeping him upright. Nate studied the wine-dark floor. Dim lantern light cast bleak shadows on the gaunt lines of his face. “...Not our best evening, is it?”

“ _No._ ” She huffed, watching him from the corner of her eye, a little surprised to have gotten a response at all. 

The pungency of alcohol on his breath made her want to plug her nose. But she didn’t. She took all of it in, for what it was - and what it wasn’t. If she could offer nothing else, at least Piper could give him a long, honest look. She’d made too many assumptions tonight.

Closing and opening his wounded hand experimentally, Nate was quiet again. 

Piper winced at the motion which must surely be painful. But honestly, the steely coldness of Blue’s indifference to the wound unsettled her more. “Will you let me help with that?” She tried again, “Please? Before the puddle at your feet starts dripping through the wood, and gives some poor addict on the floor below us a heart attack.”

Nate didn’t laugh. 

She guessed she hadn’t really expected one from him. 

But after a moment of cryptic hesitation, he surprised Piper by baring his palm vaguely. “If you have to.”

 

* * *

 

 


	4. Love, Honor, and Cherish

Relief flooded Piper’s chest in spite of his hollow tone. She stood and walked to his nightstand, where she withdrew a ratty handkerchief from Nate’s pack - smirking weakly at how finely organized the bag’s contents were. Then, grimacing, she pulled out a second hankey.

When she turned back around, he was watching her. Staring. He appeared barely able to hold his head up, and yet an intensity simmered in Nate’s dim eyes that left her unsettled. 

He looked away then, subdued. 

“Cap for you thoughts?” She teased with a feeble twitch that didn’t quite make it to a smile. Piper returned to his side, kneeling down on one knee so they were eye-level. “I’d… kinda like to hear ‘em.” 

She reached out, and he extended his wound half-heartedly. Piper took his hand and held it steady, then daubed with the hankey, frowning as the fabric turned dark. Black, even. It could’ve been mistaken for ink… except for the smell of iron.

He didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the contact, though Piper tried to be careful and avoid causing him any more pain in the cleaning. 

She wondered if Magnolia had touched him this gently. Expression souring, Piper huffed. It was silly to be jealous, especially _now._ And it wasn’t - well, she wasn’t after _that_ sort of - _thing._ God, he was here weeping over his dead wife. 

But her emotions didn’t seem to care very much about being rational. And even if she understood why he’d slammed the door on her at The Third Rail, precious little of tonight made sense. It seemed she was doomed to forever find Nate a pre-war puzzle just a little too hard to piece together. The speed with which Magnolia had circumvented Blue’s barrier was more frustrating than the barrier’s existence in the first place. What secret did the drifting singer know, that Piper didn’t?

Nate winced.

“Sorry…” She whined, thinking it was the wound. Belatedly the thought occurred to her that he might be reacting to her discontented pantomiming.

“It’s fine.” 

Alcohol made Nate a terrible liar. But she didn’t challenge him. 

It was painfully quiet for a long moment. He broke the silence first.

“...You haven’t asked me why I did it.” His mouth drew into a bitter, cynical line under a fractured brow that seemed to tremble faintly.

Piper looked up again. “...Should I have?”

He dipped his head. “Figured you would.”

“Well I won’t lie, I’d like to.” She sighed. “But… After the way I treated you tonight, I figure I can at least wait till you’re sober to get a statement.” Her halfhearted smile conveyed the attempt at humor.

Nate was unreadable. Shrouded in his private thoughts, and unspeakably tired looking. 

After a moment, he offered in a weak voice, as though keenly aware of his own vulnerability, “I wanted to forget. Just for a night… To pretend things were okay and that I wasn’t alone in this ungodly wasteland, on this suicide mission, with my family in tatters.” The alibi was a little slurred, but from drink or grief was unclear. Maybe both. “She was beautiful and she didn’t care where I came from. Made me think… maybe I could stop caring too.” 

Piper studied him gravely, wincing at the tenuous twitch of his lips. 

He pulled out of her grip. Yanking a mostly empty bottle from the floor beside him with his cut hand, Nate downed the rest, then added bitterly, “I couldn’t go through with it, though - _I just see my wife.”_

What little remained of Piper’s anger dissipated entirely. He felt… _real,_ again. Even if she’d never seen him in such a sorry state. _And he was talking._ The words might be bloody and wounded, but they _were_ words. 

The impulse to ask, to know more, to _understand_ , took over. She just needed him to keep going. Brows furrowed, she pried the glass from his hand gently. “You... don’t talk about her much. Ever.” Piper nudged with wary smile and a trill in her voice.

He stared morbidly at the red still dripping down the bottle.

Distress tugged at her gut, doing its best to unravel her ragged confidence. “Blue, you can trust me. I’m not… looking for notes on a story or anything like that. I _do_ know how to keep a secret. Hard as it might be to believe.”

Nate grimaced deeply in reply. 

The pang of his silence felt like a judgement against her. Still, that wouldn’t stop her from trying to make things right. “It might do some good - talking about it?” She set the bottle behind her, “If not to me, maybe Nick? Or Dogmeat… heh, he’s a pretty good listener.”

Nate shook his head, teeth bared. “You won’t understand.”

“I’d like to try. If you’ll let me.”

A soft breath issued out of him, and it took Piper a moment to realize he’d scoffed. No real amusement accompanied the sound. 

“You don’t have to, Blue.” She tacked on with feeble resignation, feeling heavy. “I just- I wanna help. Really I do… If I can.”

The weight of the gulf between them seemed to stretch into eternity. But why? Piper wished she knew. Maybe the chasm didn’t have to be as wide as it was. If only Blue would open up to her. Even a little. His secrets weren’t doing him any good, evidenced enough by the tragedy spilled all around in shattered glass and blood. Still he clung to them. As if they were a shield instead of a noose tangled around his neck.

There was a strangled pause. “I-” Some central part of him steeled itself… and caught fire. He trembled like a lost fawn or a dying soldier. “...Her name _i-_ ” His throat bobbed, and every feature from his brow to his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his face would shatter. “It was - _Nora_ ,” Nate’s voice cracked over her name, “…and sh- _e_ -” Tears spilled forth. He held a hand up, pressing dirty fingers against his eyes and shuddering as cut, broken sobs fought against his restraint. Thick lines of hurt pooled between Nate’s white knuckles.

Piper didn’t turn away - though she wondered if he might interpret it differently, to do so seemed insensitive. Discountenant. This was her friend. He was worth a hard look at the truth, no matter the discomfort, or the well of helpless frustration bubbling inside her. In spite of all that, she felt a prickle of relief. 

Reaching for the clenched fist, she tugged with a steady insistence. Until he opened it again. A far bloodier mess than before marred his hand. Piper pressed her bedraggled handkerchief against his wound with a faint frown. They were flying blind. Both of them. And she wasn’t sure she could find him in the night. But _a chance_ , a place to start, that was still something.

“You really loved her… huh?” For some reason this made Piper sad, and not just out of sympathy.

Nate stopped trying not to cry. 

Beneath the brave face, stripped of all sentimental pretense, the deepest part of him had cracked down the center. A broken radio, older than it looked. Lost for signal and sound entirely. Sure, polished up, if you didn’t look too hard, it might appear fine. Except when you tried to play it. Then the truth came out instead. 

“I’ve watched her die twice now. And it-” His voice hitched like the damaged vinyl he was. “It’s not going to get easier, is it?” The ragged, heart-rent sobs faltered. Grief was a monumental effort. Maybe more than he could bear.

Piper hesitated, glancing across the floor of cut glass. Nate shivered violently beside her, too drunk or too exhausted to fight the pain any longer. 

“Yeah, it will.” She said finally, tying the second bandanna around the cut and then reaching into her pocket for the gumdrops, “Here. C’mon, you look like you need this.” 

At first he seemed to ignore her. Then Nate sighed and made a halfhearted swipe for the package. He didn’t open it.

They sat side by side again. She didn’t know how to help him, if she was being honest. Every instinct screamed for her to offer solutions. Reasons. Some kind of answer. But maybe that wasn’t what Blue needed right now. 

“I can’t even remember her face anymore.” He choked, face contorting. “Isn’t that terrible? All I can see is- is the-” He looked ashamed. “I hate Kellogg, for what he’s done. For that, maybe more than anything else.” A weak hiss bled out of Nate, “But then… Who’s fault is it, really?”

“Don’t do that to yourself.” Piper winced, “Kellogg’s _gone._ He’ll never take anybody’s loved ones away again. Thanks to you. That has to count for something, right?” 

Nate sneered lopsidedly, crumpling away like loose paper caught in a radstorm. “She’s… still… dead.” He answered with a bitter, singsongy flourish.

Biting her lip, Piper reached out, then hesitated. The gift of gab had failed. There wasn’t much else she could offer, except, “Blue… I’m here for you.” 

It didn’t seem sufficient. 

He took her hand then. Not clenching like his earlier fist, but still firm and trembling. And he wept. 

At first she was too stupefied to react. After a moment, she leaned tentatively against his shoulder. Nate didn’t press back. He didn’t retreat from the motion, either. Which seemed meaningful in it’s own way.

How long they sat together, Piper couldn’t be sure. The ache didn’t recede, but eventually the measure of Blue’s tremors faded. His wheezing grew unlabored. Maybe it was enough.

 

* * *

 

Daylight caught motes of dust like falling embers. The storm of the night before had given way to a dawn of colorful pastels, bathing the rundown streets of Goodneighbor in warm hues. Shadows still clung darkly to the tangled alleys, but seemed less sinister. 

Nick’s joints creaked as he ascended the Rexford’s stairs. It was quiet. Most of the patrons were still sleeping off their liquor and jet. The room he was looking for was easy enough to find. His brow furrowed at the sight of the door left cracked open. 

Nathan must have already risen - or else never slept. No sounds of movement reached Nick’s battered audio processors. But Nathan’s bag could be seen strewn out beside the bed, implying the room was occupied. He wouldn’t have left such valuables unattended.

“Hey.” Nick knocked lightly on the moldering frame, “Sorry to bother you so early, but I noticed Piper wasn’t-” 

The scene that greeted him as he crossed the threshold gave Nick pause. It looked like a murder had taken place. Furniture tossed, broken glass, blood and wine and candy wrappers strewn about. Nathan slouched against the far wall, red fabric tied around an ichored hand. Passed out, and it must’ve been a hard sleep because he didn’t stir one inch at Nick’s intrusion. 

Nathan wasn’t alone.

His head rested atop Piper’s. She was tilted into him, her own cheek cradled on his shoulder. Red stained her fingers. Tired lines traced her eyes. She was equally absent to the world. They drooped together like a sunken foundation and it hardly looked comfortable, but a sort of serenity haloed the weathered scene. 

For a moment Nick smiled softly. He wouldn’t envy Nathan the headache waiting when he woke, or the stiff joints both would no doubt rise to. Since yesterday’s revelations, all manner of new troubles demanded attention. But - call it a detective’s intuition - Nick suspected his companions were exactly where they needed to be. The new day would wake them soon enough. In the meantime… With careful movement, he shut the door as quietly as possible, and left them to rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [tarberrymentats](https://tarberrymentats.tumblr.com/) and [Shadow-Mockingbird](https://shadow-mockingbird.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading! :D <3  
> Aaa it's so bittersweet to finish this fic! ;w; I started it back in September of last year, and I've learned so much writing it about Nate and his relationship with Piper. It's a really important part of their journey, from Piper learning Nora's name to Nate letting her see how hurt he really is. Being able to share it with you all has been super rewarding! Feedback is welcome!!
> 
> You can check out my [lookbluesoup](http://lookbluesoup.tumblr.com) tumblr for doodles and fun facts and other Nate nonsense! :D


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